


Cold Shoulder

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [26]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Children, F/M, Intrigue, One-Sided Relationship, Princes & Princesses, Revaire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:00:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: Circumstances force Verity uncomfortably close into her husband's orbit. It's not a position she's pleased with.
Relationships: Arland Princess/Jarrod
Series: Decline and Fall [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 2





	1. Proximity

Her jaunts with Brielle over the past several weeks prepared Verity well enough for her stay in Wendell Abbey. She was not shocked by how much older and more dilapidated the house was, compared to the gracious estates of the neighbors. Certainly, she was used to more luxurious surroundings, but the building's layout had some of the same quirks as the Old Palace in the capital, and she had gotten used to those in good time. She wondered whether the two buildings were equal in age, but hesitated to ask Duke Wendell about it.

An abbey and a castle ought to be vastly different structures in their layout and utility, and so they were, but they were still both very old buildings built out of enormous stone blocks, and their exteriors retained a forbidding aspect. Internally, both had been converted to modern use in a way that could not completely conceal their archaic construction and rough materials. It was rather like living in a piece of history -- the old, shadowy history from before the great peace -- and she wasn't sure she cared for it.

And it was cold. Last summer, Verity had had cause to give thanks for the Old Palace's imposing stone walls, which somehow managed to keep the interior shady and cool on all but the hottest days. Starfall City was sweltering in the summer. Summer on the lake was much milder, and only the direct afternoon sunlight could really try her tolerance. In the evenings, and early in the morning, an autumn-like chill pervaded the house. She shivered in her slippers as she sat at the small vanity and dressed her hair, now and then stopping to warm her hands on her teacup.

"Why is it so cold here?" she asked Petra idly, while the latter was laying out her clothing for the day. "Just because of the stone walls? The rest of the house isn't so cold, in the evenings."

"This room is in the back of the house, milady," said Petra. "It gets less sunlight than other rooms, and that makes it colder. The warmest room is probably the southern gallery."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Verity dryly.

Petra smiled faintly and asked, "Shall I go fetch breakfast, milady?"

Verity glanced past her and saw Jarrod beginning to stir, uncharacteristically early. "Yes, Petra. Now would be the perfect time to fetch breakfast."

She busied herself with her morning dressing ritual, and waited until Jarrod had discovered the cup full of bitter black tea waiting for him. There was no use trying to speak to him before he'd had something to drink. He wouldn't even hear, let alone acknowledge her. Or maybe he did hear her, but didn't merit her comments worthy of attention until he'd had a bite to eat. Regardless, there was no talking to him before he was good and ready. She went on lacing her corset and settling her petticoats, just as though she was alone in her bedroom in Starfall City, until she felt his eyes on her.

"You're up and about earlier than usual," she said, checking her reflection in the small mirror glass.

"Going sailing," he replied shortly.

"With Lord Tristan?" she asked.

Jarrod snorted. "He's busy. Taking his ridiculous sister to town, shopping for new dresses or something equally stupid. I'm taking Darius and Duncan."

"That sounds nice," said Verity neutrally. "I hope you enjoy yourself."

"I will," said Jarrod, as though issuing a challenge.

"I believe I will walk up to Merrotayne and visit with Mhairi and Cecily," said Verity idly.

He didn't react to that. She went on dressing herself, and he did the same, only much more quickly. Men's clothing wasn't as complicated to put together as even a simple day gown, and she had chosen one of her simplest ones, anticipating the dust of her daily walk. Once she had finished dressing she had nothing more to do except wait for Petra to bring breakfast. Verity took one of the seats by the window, hoping to catch some of the elusive morning sunlight, but the back rooms were nestled into the side of a swell of land, and their windows were heavily shaded.

Jarrod drained his teacup and made to leave.

Verity frowned. "Not waiting for breakfast?"

He turned to her, as though surprised that she spoke at all. "I'll get something from the kitchen and eat on the way down to the boathouse."

"All right," said Verity, feeling inane.

Jarrod regarded her with a frown for a moment, and then stalked across the room to the window where she sat. He bent double, and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. Verity held herself perfectly still, startled beyond the ability to react.

"I like your hair that way," he said, and made for the door again. "I'll see you at dinner."

"Yes," said Verity, but he was already gone.

"Everything quite all right, milady?" asked Petra, when she came in a moment later with breakfast.

"All right?" asked Verity. "I suppose so. My husband was acting a bit strange, just now."

"Nothing more than the force of proximity, milady," said Petra reassuringly. "You'll feel more yourself once you've had a bite to eat."


	2. Starling and the Serpent Wand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verity gets to know Lady Cendrile and her children.

Despite the family's financial travails, and her own poorly matched marriage, Lady Cendrile was a companionable soul, keen to seek out and make the most out of the moments of joy in her life. She spent most of her time in the small front parlor that had once been the abbey's scriptorium, where she struggled to teach her two older children, while also soothing the baby. Her daughter, however, was much too lively to be cooped up indoors, and often resisted her mother's attempts at education. When Verity came upon her that morning, she was sitting in her favorite armchair, watching her middle son struggling to read aloud, while the baby slept in her arms.

"At least the little one is quiet, today," she said softly and, shaking herself slightly, turned her face to Verity and smiled tiredly. "Good morning, Princess Verity. I hope you slept well?"

"Quite well, Lady Cendrile," replied Verity. "I see your daughter is not about. Has she lost patience with her lessons again?"

Cendrile sighed and laughed. "I was the same at her age, if you'll believe it."

"You seem to have grown up to be an educated woman all the same," said Verity gently.

"True," replied Cendrile. "But then, I was the only one of my father's children living in the abbey at that time, and my mother wasn't endeavoring to school me alone. I had a nurse, and later a tutor."

"Perhaps you can take it to mean that soon she'll grow older and more sober," said Verity, "and come to appreciate her mother's efforts more sincerely."

"That's a nice thought, and I thank you for it," said Cendrile and, turning to her son, murmured, "That's wonderful, my darling. I think you have earned a short break."

"I could read a story," suggested Verity.

The little boy turned wide eyes on his mother. "Please, Mama?"

Cendrile looked back and forth between them. "What sort of story did you have in mind, Princess?"

"I have a book of Wellish fairy tales," said Verity. "How about _Starling and the Serpent Wand_?"

"Oh, I think I know that one," murmured Cendrile distractedly. "Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you, Princess Verity. Orin, thank Her Highness, please."

He turned and gave a wobbly bow. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"You're most welcome, young Master Orin," replied Verity gravely. "Will you wait patiently while I go and fetch my book?"

* * *

Verity found young Orin to be an attentive and impressionable audience, on whom she could unleash all her most expressive and fanciful habits of reading aloud. Midway through the third story, his elder sister Adelina slunk in and joined them, sitting quietly cross-legged on the floor and leaning her head against the couch's arm-rest. Lady Cendrile took advantage of their preoccupation to carry the baby away for a feeding and a nap, and then disappeared into the abbey's kitchen to give the cook instructions for tea. Verity suspected she had as much of a hand in preparing tea as ordering it, but not knowing whether Cendrile would be embarrassed by her guess, kept the notion to herself.

She had a sinking feeling that really she _ought_ to be using this reading hour to try and impart some knowledge on the children, or encourage them to sound out the words in the book, but she was enjoying herself too much. It was exactly the sort of idle pastime that her mother would have sternly warned her away from, undoubtedly compounded by not only wasting her own time, but passing on the bad habit to children. So many of her lessons began with ' _When you have children of your own..._ ' even well before she was out of childhood herself. Of course as princess, she was always expected to be a good example to younger children, like her cousins on her mother's side.

She was so caught up in her musings that she barely noticed she had trailed off in the middle of a sentence. Why hadn't the children objected to such a glaring oversight? When she looked around her, Verity found that Adelina and Orin were both dozing off on the couch, looking rather peaceful. Well, it wasn't proper schooling, but at least they were quiet and still, and that would give their harried mother some time to go about her own business. It was only once she had gotten to know Cendrile that she understood that she spent most of her time with her children not out of overbearing protectiveness, or because she was too shy to participate in the neighborhood dinner parties. With no tutor or governess to take over their schooling, her only other choice was to let them run wild over the countryside, like Brielle had done.

Well, they could do a lot worse, she supposed.

At the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side of the door, young Miss Adelina started awake. She looked here and there wildly, and began patting her hair to see if it had come out of its braids. Orin was a heavier sleeper, and he didn't stir, just rolled over and burrowed his face into the worn embroidery of a couch cushion.

"Miss Adelina," said Verity gently, "I believe your mother is calling for tea, if you would like to go to your room and freshen up before it is served."

The girl jumped to her feet and gave an awkward half-bow, half-curtsy. "Yes milady," she said. "I mean, Your Highness!"

Verity smiled. "That's quite all right. Run along now, won't you?"

She wasted no time in complying, tearing across the room and out the door without bothering to shut it behind her. Verity caught a glimpse of her rounding the corner of the hallway that led to the family rooms, where the nursery presumably was. Most of her field of vision, however, was taken up by the source of the noise that had startled the little girl awake, which now filled the open doorway and scowled darkly at her.

"I hope you had a pleasant morning," said Verity to her husband. "Lady Cendrile has just gone to call for tea, if you're hungry."

The scowl on his face cleared as abruptly as a cloudburst. "Th-thank you," he said, awkwardly.

Verity shut her book and placed it gently on the small table at her elbow, and eased off the couch. Orin didn't register the change in environment at all, but kept sleeping obliviously. Still, she took care to walk softly out of the room and softly shut the door behind her.

"Where are you going?" asked Jarrod.

"Just to the bedroom," said Verity, baffled at his sudden interest. "I want to fix my hair before we sit down to eat. The Queen always wrinkles her nose at me if it's less than perfectly orderly."

Jarrod actually smiled, or rather smirked. "It looks better like this than piled stupidly on top of your head," he said officiously. "Keep it this way."

"Oh, I don't know," said Verity. "Wearing my hair up is more convenient in the summer. You wouldn't need to worry about all that, since you keep your hair so short."

A frown of confusion spread over his face, and she took advantage of his momentary disorientation in the conversation to brush past him and head towards the room they shared. His coat had been fresh rather than dusty, so she expected -- hoped, rather -- to have the room to herself for the short hour before sitting down to a meal with the whole judgmental family. She really did need to have her hair perfect, and fortunately Petra was waiting for her in the room, preparing for just such a task. At this point, she suspected her maid knew the Queen's moods as well as the Queen's maid did, or perhaps as well as the Queen herself.


	3. Summerville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Verity has an uncomfortable encounter.

At dinner that night, Lady Cendrile made a point of thanking Verity again for reading to the children, which put her under rather more scrutiny than she was expecting. The Duke was gracious in repeating his daughter's thanks, without gushing or overbearing, which Verity appreciated in particular. Jarrod huffed and Gisette pinched her nose, and when they caught each other's eye they shared a wry smile in condemnation. Queen Violetta merely asked what book Verity saw fit to read to the children, which Verity wasn't especially concerned about.

She might have known better, by now.

"Ostradan's _Old Wellin Fairy Tales_ ," she replied, quite blithely. "A beautifully illustrated new edition, even."

The King snorted. "Fairy tales?" he asked, his voice dripping with contempt. "You couldn't find anything worse to poison a sensible child's mind with."

"Now, Papa," said Gisette sweetly, laying her hand on his arm, "Lady Cendrile raised no objection to Verity's choice of story. Surely she must be allowed to raise her children as she sees fit."

He snorted again, but said nothing more.

Lady Cendrile looked mortified, and Verity was sure that her own face was burning. Whether with embarrassment or fury, she found it hard to tell.

The rest of dinner passed mostly in sullen silence, with only Gisette and the Queen keeping up an artificial chatter. Verity, having lost her appetite altogether, escaped to her room as soon as she possibly could, and sent Petra for a soothing tea. She waited, flipping idly through a half-read letter and not seeing the words on the paper. Bored and listless, she picked up objects and then set them back down again, before deciding she might as well start preparing for bed.

She had her hair half out of its pins by the time Petra returned with not only a cup of tea, but some bread and butter to go with it.

"Just in case your appetite returns, milady," said Petra with a wry smile.

Verity sighed and surrendered her hairbrush to Petra, replacing it with the teacup, which she blew on gently before sipping.

Her eyes drifted shut. "Oh, that's much better already."

"Milady knows all bad moods can be easily driven away by a proper cup of tea," said Petra behind her, sounding amused.

"I didn't really mean to skip dinner," she said earnestly. "Thank you for bringing the bread. I promise I'll have it, when I'm feeling better."

"Yes, milady," said Petra, pulling the brush through her curls.

"And once I'm dressed for bed you can have the rest of the evening to yourself," she added impulsively. "I'll be here reading, anyway, until I go to sleep. I won't need you."

"You don't mind if the Queen says you coddle me?" asked Petra with tones of great amusement. "Milady."

"I don't believe I do," she answered. "I was taught that a mark of nobility is treating one's servants with grace, justice and kindness. I _hope_ I've lived up to those principles."

"More than any other master I've seen in Revaire, milady," said Petra.

"What's more," added Verity, making a face in the mirror, "I'm quite certain that if I treated you or the other girls unjustly, you'd make no bones about telling me so, whether I liked to hear it or not."

"Certainly, milady," agreed Petra.

"Tomorrow, can you see about trimming the black gown with the gold braid?" asked Verity. "I want it to be ready in time for my birthday."

"I will have it ready in good time, milady," said Petra. "Please turn sideways."

She set down her half-drunk teacup and obliged, letting Petra run brush and comb through her hair. When it was all brushed and braided, she helped her out of her many layers of clothing. Wrapped in her favorite yellow bedcoat, Verity gathered one of her books and curled up in the chair by the window. Finally, she was in a frame of mind to read, and as she had the room to herself for a while yet, she was fully intending to take advantage of it.

She hadn't realized that she was dozing off over her book, not until the door slamming shut startled her back into wakefulness.

"What is it?" she asked, bolting upright. "Oh. It's only you."

Jarrod laughed. " _Only_ me? Verity, don't be mean."

She rubbed her eyes and, noticing that the book she'd been reading had slipped halfway out of her lap and towards the floor, hastily righted it.

She shut the book and clutched it to her chest. "What time is it?"

"Late," said Jarrod, stalking across the room and shrugging out of his coat at the same time. "Too late for you to be up reading, anyway. Especially in the dark. Put out that candle and go to bed like a good girl."

"I _had_ a candle and it's _not_ too dark," she objected, but it was pointless to argue with him.

Verity set the book back on top of the pile near her side of the bed. Pulling open the draping hangings that kept the oversized, old-fashioned bed from getting too cold for comfort, she shed her bedcoat and crawled under the covers, shivering. The bed would take a while to get warm, but it was summer, and she couldn't say that it was really cold. Not cold enough for something like a hot brick, certainly.

Jarrod laughed again, more softly this time. "I'll be by to keep you warm shortly," he said.

She hadn't the foggiest idea what he was talking about. "Please, Jarrod, I'm tired."

"Are you?" he asked. "All you've done all day is play with the duke's grandchildren, while I rode all the way to the Summerville market and back. Don't ask me what for, it's a secret."

He obviously did want her to ask, so she didn't. "Reading to the children was fun, but it wasn't easy."

Jarrod sat down on the opposite side of the bed, his back to her. "Did you really like it?"

"Of course I did," said Verity. "I offered, didn't I? They're good, well-behaved children. Well, mostly behaved. Adelina is a bit too high-spirited for my taste, but even she means well, and she can be made to sit still, for a bit."

"I knew it," said Jarrod, climbing into bed next to her, though the bed was more than large enough for him to keep his distance.

"Knew what?" asked Verity suspiciously.

He leaned his head on his elbow and said, "You bought a fairy tale book for children, Verity. I'm not an idiot."

"You don't think I might have bought it for myself?" she asked.

He snorted. "If you were buying books for yourself, you would get one of those dreadful chivalric romances that Cecily reads all the time. Not a children's book. It's too soon, Verity. I promise you'll have a baby soon, but not now."

"I'll just have to content myself with Cendrile's children, for the moment," said Verity doubtfully, trying not to dwell on why her husband knew so much about Cecily Kallis's reading habits.

"Good. Now that it's settled, let's go to sleep."

And he curled his arm around her waist and pressed her back against his chest in a horribly proprietary manner.

Verity yawned ostentatiously. "I'm so sleepy."

"Mmm," he mumbled, contriving to press his face into her hair. "Pft, that tickles. What do you need this silly, lacy cap for?"

"It keeps my hair from frizzing during the night," she answered, with rather more forbearance than she felt.

He made a noncommittal noise, but let the issue drop. "Your hair smells sweet," he said instead. "I like it."

Verity yawned again.

He was asleep before she could think of another deflecting answer, his face burrowed into her neck like a pillow. At least she was warm, cocooned between Jarrod and the heavy quilt on one end, and the bed's drapery on the other. At least he was asleep, and not asking foolish questions or demanding foolish answers. At least his hands weren't icy cold, for once. And what _had_ he been doing in Summerville, anyway?

She was too tired to think about it. Tomorrow, she really must contrive a way to spend at least part of the day alone.


End file.
